“That’s what happens when you spend too much time with guys,” said Catrina, shaking her head.
“They’re not all bad. I mean, they’re like brothers to me.”
“Well, sure. But, I don’t know, I think Charlie’s a little too… uh… I don’t think anyone should be thinking about him like a brother is all.”
Queen Victoria XXX smiled and began to speak, but was interrupted by Chester A. Arthur XVII and William H. Taft XLII barreling down the hallway, rushing past the girls and toward the elevators.
Chester A. Arthur XVII stopped just long enough to grab Victoria by the elbow and say, “The Dunkin Donuts guy is giving away free donuts!” before running off again.
“Alright,” said Catrina, “maybe you can think about him like a brother.”
Queen Victoria XXX laughed and said, “Well, it’s gotta be the same with you and Thor, right?”
“Thor’s more… Thor’s something else.”
Thor came running out of his room in only a towel, shampoo still in his hair, chanting, “Donuts! Donuts! Donuts!”
“Like a cousin who used to eat paint chips,” she clarified.
Sixty-One: It Is, In Fact, His Third
“Sir,” said the completely nondescript bureaucratic drone whose fortune-telling mother hadn’t even bothered to name him due to his fated role in the world, “it appears that Kansas and Wyoming have been taken by the Hobo Empire.”
“So?” said the President of the Amalgamated Provinces and States of Canada, America and Mexico.
“I really don’t see how that’s even close to being the appropriate response, sir. It seems kind of callous and unprofessional, especially given your title and responsibilities.”
“It was Kansas and Wyoming.”
“Today, yes. But those are the nineteenth and twentieth states to fall since Pennsylvania last week.”
“I’m not following.”
“The Hobo Empire has now annexed the entire Midwest and, as of this morning, set the west coast on fire.”
“I’m not familiar with that term, son. Are you trying to say they’re forcibly taking the western states? That they’ve laid siege to California?”
“No, sir, I mean, quite literally, that the full length of the western coastline is aflame. I’m not really sure how, but even the ocean is burning.”
“That doesn’t seem right.”
“There are also reports that the one calling himself Quinn is, in actuality, the Aztec god of creation and knowledge.”
“Quetzalcoatl?!”
“One and the same, sir.”
“I thought we killed that son of a bitch years ago! I’ll never understand why he couldn’t just accept that he was no longer deific and become human or kill himself like all the others. Instead, that motherfucker destroyed half of Mexico and made me look like a fool.”
“Yes, sir, I’m sure that was entirely his doing, sir.”
“We’re just going to have to kill him all over again then,” said the president, his eyes growing wide and glazing over. “We’ve no other choice.”
“How exactly do you plan on doing that, sir? There are still far, far too many civilians for a nuclear strike. And we can’t even be sure that would get rid of him anyway. Quetzalcoatl’s destroyed wave after wave of murder-drones all on his own, and his philosopher army is proving fairly proficient at surviving now as well.”
“This isn’t my first rodeo, boy,” replied the president. “We’re calling in a specialist.”
Sixty-Two: This One Goes Out to All the English Majors
“So,” said Thor, leaning back, his elbows against the concierge desk of the Secaucus Holiday Inn, “you’re not with Victoria.”
“I’m not,” said Chester A. Arthur XVII, standing next to Thor in a similar fashion. “You with Catrina?”
“Nope.”
“Meaning there shouldn’t be a problem with my taking her out to dinner then.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“So there would be a problem.”
“More than likely.”
“And that problem would be…?”
“You, mainly. And my inherent distrust of you, specifically.”
Chester A. Arthur XVII nodded slightly, conceding the point.
“That’s understandable, actually,” he said. “I’m assuming then that this is the juncture of our conversation wherein you ask me if there’s a problem with you courting Victoria?”
“Uh, no, actually,” said Thor. “I was just going to do it.”
“You are aware you’re nowhere near good enough for her, right?”
“What? I’m a fucking god, dude.”
“You were a god. Now you’re just some chump working at a hotel in the middle of a swamp. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’re a little out of touch, Thor. Not to mention confused and kind of angry, like a flightless bird stuck on a tree branch.”
“Yeah, no. You misunderstood what I meant.”
Chester A. Arthur XVII thought about that for a second before saying, “Oh.”
“Yep,” replied Thor.
“You do realize that you’ve pretty much just proved my point, though, right?”
“What are you talking about? That was the greatest double entendre in the history of history.”
“She could do so much better than you, man.”
“Yeah, I don’t know about that.”
“What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?”
From the couch on the other side of the lobby Catrina asked, “What are they getting all worked up about now?”
“Not a clue,” said Queen Victoria.
“Whatever it is,” said William H. Taft XLII, situated between the two women, his arms stretched out along the back of the couch, “I’m not getting in the middle of it.”
Sixty-Three: Hippie Hippie Shake
Gil and Lil sat on the beach and watched the ocean burn.
“Man,” said Gil. “I don’t know why Quetzalcoatl had to go and do that. I mean, Mother Earth is going to be pissed.”
“Oh, no doubt, no doubt,” said Lil.
“I mean, seriously, we are in for some bad karma, just for being associated with him, you know? For letting him have his way with nature like that. And for what, man? Just so we can be there when he… when he… wait… Why are we helping him again?”
“No clue, man, no clue.”
“Right, right.”
The flames began rising, just as the sun began setting. The entire shoreline was bathed in a spectacular crimson glow. Gil and Lil couldn’t help but reflect on how beautiful it was.
“You bring any marshmallows?”
Sixty-Four: The Best Laid Plans
Thor and Chester A. Arthur XVII continued to stand by the Holiday Inn’s main desk talking about the girls, while the girls continued to sit on the couch opposite them talking to William H. Taft XLII.
Neither conversation was particularly interesting or engaging. The individuals involved were mostly talking to fill the silence—a silence that allowed them to hear a cybernetic hotel manager vigorously hump a vending machine.
This lack of involvement in their activities actually proved to be beneficial, as four men in dark suits, accompanied by a woman in a dark suit with a dark burlap sack over her head, soon walked into the hotel’s lobby. Catrina, her attention not focused on what she was doing, was able to immediately identify the woman.
“Judy?"
"Hi!” replied Judy, waving, and, Catrina assumed, smiling. It was kind of hard to tell, what with the bag and all.
“What are you doing here?”
“We’re here for Thor, actually,” she said, walking toward the couch. “We need his help.”
“I’m sorry,” said Thor, “could you repeat that? My friend here,” he indicated Chester A. Arthur XVII, “is a little hard of hearing.”